His heart raced quickly inside his chest, threatening to explode out. If he had made a good decision and said no, then Sungjong would have been in the comforts of his own room right now, with his headphones blasting the latest pop song and his gangly body sprawled on his bed with Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince opened to page 324 as he read. But that wasn't the matter at hand. Bad decisions make good stories, in fact.

The cool, night wind blew on his face from all directions as he took long strides on the concrete sidewalk. Trying his best to take a photographic memory of his surroundings, Sungjong observed all the houses he passed by and debating on which door he would knock on first had something bad happened to him. "I could have been on the thirteenth chapter by now. I wonder what happened to Katie..." mumbled Sungjong to himself for entertainment purposes.

Apparently, he still wonders what magic his peers had unto him and why he would agree to a pointless task like this. But his friends had used the phrase that would surely make him oblige to what they want Sungjong to do. "It's for Su Jin," said Woohyun, "or if you don't want to go for it, watch her fall for someone else." Sungjong stared back at the six pairs of brown eyes, creased with cocky smiles plastered on his friends' faces earlier that morning.

"Fine," he shrugged and took the card from Sunggyu's hands before he could change his mind. Right now, as his footsteps were the only sound heard throughout the silent neighborhood, Sungjong somehow wanted to laugh the whole idea off. He flicked the card back and forth in between his fingers, wondering where the house might be. He played eenie meenie on two different, creepy looking houses.

The words scribbled hastily on the card in his hands almost made him dizzy, what with the spidery writing and greasy fingerprints marked on the edges, as if it had been passed on from one person to another. There wasn't an exact address indicated, only the numbers 105. Sungjong's eyes wandered to look for the same digits to finally meet the old man his friends were insistent about.

Finally, after much trouble, Sungjong had been standing in front of the exact location after all. He pushed the small fence open, the rusty gate giving off a creaking sound that he only heard in horror movies. The sound sent shivers up his body. "You're eighteen now, Lee Sungjong. Stand up and be a man." And the motivations worked as he reached the porch steps, although he battled on resting his foot up the small flight of stairs.

The wood made a scream of surrender with a spine-chilling squeak. He managed to walk up and ignore the noises that would undoubtedly scare him. Sungjong gave his cheek a light slap, just making sure he wasn't just stuck in a nightmare he frequently had. His knuckles rapped softly on the door, and how surprised was he when the door opened by itself after his second knock.

He pushed it further open and stepped backwards as the darkness seemed to pull him in forcefully like a black hole in space. "Come in," said a booming voice from inside. He reluctantly stepped in the bungalow, the walls with peeling white paint and barricaded windows added more to his uncertainty, but he went ahead and let himself in.

"Why don't you take a seat?" offered the same dark voice.

Sungjong couldn't see quite well because of the dim lit surroundings, not to mention unfamiliar, since it was exactly the opposite inside his own home, where the walls were painted in sunshine yellow and decorated in framed pictures of the Lee family. His eyes scanned the place for anything to sit on, and settled for the wooden chair that seemed as creaky as the door behind him.

Suddenly tensing at the possible whereabouts of the man talking to him, he began frantically searching for him by tilting his head from side to side. Sungjong jerked up at the sound of a chair screeching forward and coming to a halt in front of him. He stared straight ahead at a man in his probably late 40s, with a face oldened with the global financial crisis, life getting harder day by day.

He hesitantly reached out to hand him the card, which the old man quickly snatched away. He eyed what was obscurely written on the piece of paper, and gave a quick glance to the lad sitting in front of him. "Huh, they always come in young and curious. Then they come back looking sleepless and tired..." he grumbled in a throaty voice before crumpling the paper and hurling it to the empty ground.

The teen let his eyes wander, discovering a couple of shelves pushed back against the dirty walls. On it were perhaps a dozen bottles and jars with suspicious contents, not to mention some vials in all shapes and sizes. In between the two was a table, with two legs uneven, making it wobble even without weight. The old man cleared his throat before pushing his chair back to stand up properly.

"What brings you here, Mr. Lee?"

The reluctant stranger advanced to the wide array on his shelves. "Well, see, my friend...err...told me something about a certain mixture with quite astounding effects," answered Sungjong while also standing up slowly and carefully, his eyes fixed on the old man.

"And you are here to...?"

"So it's true then? That the mixture you have could maybe--"

"See here," interrupted the old man, gesturing for the youngster to come closer. "These, for instance, may look insignificant at first look. The Chinese coded it as 'spare rib soup'. It is much safer than any vitamin supplement or performance-enhancement drugs as they say in advertisements. Those have mere, sometimes harmful, side effects. But this, when boiled with chicken meat for eight hours, could increase health and ual stamina."

Sungjong's eyes squinted behind the moon glasses worn up the bridge of his aristocratic nose and scooted closer to get a better view of the jars the old man was referring to. "What is it?"

"Aborted fetus," revealed the old man without hesitation, making Sungjong cringe and inch away.

"Are you saying you're an abortionist?" cried Sungjong, suddenly terrified and regretful for coming in the first place with a killer in the same room as him.

"Of course not!" scoffed the older. "I just have a wide range of collection, that's all. How about this then?"

He presented Sungjong with a small vial. It might have looked empty with a quick glance, but with sharp vision, the liquid inside was simply crystal clear like the container. The younger's eyes widened in sheer curiosity. Could it possibly be the liquid that would make his problems disappear with a snap of his finger? His heart began to race as it had just moments ago, possibly the thrill of acquiring new knowledge.

"It tastes like licorice as it reaches the tongue. Transparent liquid looking so harmless and innocent, but exactly the opposite as it trickles down your throat. Your esophagus begins to tighten, with the victim choking and coughing wildly, spitting out blood in rare occasions, even. Within a matter of seconds afterwards, that pitiful person falls down on the floor clutching his neck while his mouth foams until his eyes close. By then, the drink would have been effective, and the victim dies."

"Then it's poison," suggested Sungjong, horrified.

"You may call it that," the old man sighed indifferently. "But I call it a cleaner. Life needs cleaning sometimes. This might make impossible things into something more achievable. For a teaspoon of this, I demand sixty thousand won, not a penny less. Not much, really. People don't mind the cost if the demand is too necessary. They could save up for it if they want if they're that desperate."

Sungjong instinctively shoved his hand inside his pocket and his fingers searched for the familiar feel of his leather wallet. "Do all your mixtures cost as much?" he demanded quite nervously. He was sixteen, for crying out loud! People at his age are happy enough to have a staple allowance every single day, and he was, undoubtedly, much better off than most of young adults in his hometown.

The old man returned the vial on the same spot by the shelf. "Of everything I have, this one's the most pricey. And of all my stock in trade, excluding the common knockout drops. You youngsters might have been made known to that kind of mixture by now," he turned to face Sungjong.

"W-what's that?"

"You know, knockout drops. Have you ever read Romeo And Juliet, kid? It's not deadly, though. This mixture, when taken in orally with a generous sip and after running through your veins as your heart pumps merrily, would make you as cold as a corpse, with no pulse nor heartbeat of course. For forty two hours, the 13-year-old Juliet Capulet remained stiff and cold with borrowed likeness such of death. These knockout drops have the same kind of role to play," he answered as-a-matter-of-factly.

"I want nothing of that sort," Sungjong held his head up high defiantly. "But...how much would that cost?"

"I'd say 10,000 won. It's effectivity makes the price all worth it, and it took me years just studying about how to combine all the ingredients in my reach to make mixtures such as these," the old man blew on the cobwebs hanging by the shelves. "But most of these contain rose thorns. Take the love potion, for example. It's barely imperceptible to an oblivious mind, so powerful, this substance, yet inexpensive."

"So you do sell love potions?" his eyes were as wide as saucers.

The man shrugged and ducked down to search for something on one of the wooden drawers. Sungjong sighed, wondering how much of this he could take. He gave a quick glance at his wrist watch, which added more to his frustrations. He debated on the more significant things he could have done than just stand there, waiting for a stranger to browse through his stash of mixtures that serve whatever purpose.

The old man finally stood up, before lifting a bottle up his face. "If I didn't, then I wouldn't have mentioned a word of such mixtures that do exist even from a weird apothecary like myself. But yes, I do sell love potions. Though I don't count it as selling, for the price won't make a dent in your pockets."

"And if...suppose I do buy this love potion of yours...do you think it would be..."

"Of course it's effective!" shrieked the old man as he hurriedly went back to his chair to sit. Sungjong followed suit and sat across him. "So you have a girl in mind, I see?" To which, the lad could only nod smugly. "Ah~ young adults, really," exclaimed the old man. "The effects are dangerously permanent, and it only takes twenty-four hours for it to kick in and take effect."

"Aigoo~" Sungjong cupped either sides of his cheek while attempting to sound more enthusiastic than he already was. "Could it really be?"

The old man chuckled darkly, followed by a cough. "Let her take a sip. Just one tiny sip from this liquid. Mix it in her juice, in her drink -- in whatever way you want to conceal this potion from her prior knowledge. Once it gets in her system, no matter how outgoing and giddy she is, she will change altogether. She'll fall into deep slumber, and you will be the first thing she'll look for when she wakes up."

"Huh. I bet Su Jin would be looking for me, not because of the effect, but because of she'll want me dead from what I did," Sungjong sighed and blew on his bangs.

"No!" declined the old man with conviction as he set the small bottle down on the table in front of them. "You will mean everything to her, and so will she want to be your everything AND anything. She'll want nothing but you."

Sungjong was in cloud nine. "That truly is love!"

"Hmmm..." the old man ignored the boy's eager reaction. "She will want to know all about you, what you are doing, what you did, and what you are about to do. Her whole life would revolve around you. You will be her existence's core, her center of everything. She'll go mad without you, and she would want to be with you as much as possible."

"Wonderful!" cried Sungjong as he clapped his hands in delight.

"That girl, how carefully she would look after you! She'll feed you, dress you, ready to give you everything you might need. If you arrive home for an hour late, she would go insane just worrying about where you were or if something bad could have happened to you. Likewise, she would wonder if you are cheating on her with another woman."

"That is honestly an impossibility. I would never cheat on her. I can't imagine Su Jin like that!" exclaimed Sungjong loudly.

"Don't just imagine. BELIEVE," said the old man. "Reality is just a drink away."

"Will she love me?" Sungjong asked, quite concerned.

"The effects are permanent. Unchangeable. Once it's done, you can't change it. She will always want you. And if ever you go astray in some way or another, your young mind longing the thrill for something new, she would get jealous, of course. She would get envious with every girl you talk to. But she'll forgive you. She may be hurt, oh yes she would be no matter how much you prevent it, but she will always turn to you."

"Daebak~" Sungjong couldn't contain his excitement. "And how much would this mixture cost, by the way?"

The old man grasped the bottle tightly and wiped it clean with the hem of his shirt. "Oh that? It doesn't cost as much as my life-cleaner. No, not at all. Only a thousand won." Sungjong clutched his beating heart in happiness and fished the exact amount out of his wallet. "I can't tell you how grateful I am," exclaimed the boy, overwhelmed with a multitude of emotions.

Slouching over to reach for something inside a drawer, the man fumbled for a small glass vial and filled it to the brim, while Sungjong busied himself with making sure the one thousand won bill he placed on the table wouldn't fly off to some unknown corner of the dark place. After placing the cap on the vial's wide opening, the old man stood up and handed it to the boy.

"Thank you. You don't know how useful this will be."

"I like to oblige," responded the elder. "Use it wisely."

"Of course," Sungjong whole-heartedly shook the man's rough hand. "I owe you much."

The old man gestured to the door behind them, and walked his customer outside. Sungjong's each step was taken gracefully, not minding the creaky, unstable floorboards beneath them as they strutted. He grasped the container carefully and examined it intently, as if it would disappear once he shifted his gaze away. All he could think about is the love he is about to have.

He reached for the doorknob and opened it swiftly with one flick of his wrist. "Take care, lad. I'll see you soon," bid the old apothecary. "Thank you again," smiled Sungjong widely, although there was a hint of warning in the man's voice. "Good bye." The teen stepped down the porch, which, just moments ago, scared the life out of him with every sound it made, and went on his way home. The stern-faced man closed his door with a click.

"Ah~ People nowadays," he mumbled to himself. "Then customers come back, sometime after the mixtures take effect. And then they long for much, more expensive things, do anything to afford my life-cleaner. Even in death, licorice would still be the sweetest thing ever."